he gets all the girls
by highboys
Summary: Kaname's not a jealous person. Nuh uh.


**Title:** he gets all the girls  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> Kimi to Boku  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Yuuki/Kaname  
>For skimooyoo.<p>

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><p>There are some things about being classmates with Yuuta that Kaname finds strangely reminiscent of Yuuki. Yuuta is hardworking and reliable and a lot less insufferable when separated from his brother, but Yuuta still has the same level of attractiveness that blends easily with a facade of coolness, and it should be hilarious and pitiful to watch young girls get duped, only Kaname doesn't find it funny at all.<p>

There aren't a lot of girls that crowd around Yuuta, most of his admirers content to hang back and ogle him from afar. Besides, half the girls think that his (non-existent) love affair with that nice boy from the other class as cute. Kaname grimaces as he overhears the female class representative's furtive whispers to her seatmate about how Asaba-kun had shared an umbrella with Matsuoka the other day. Yuuta pretends not to notice, but he raises an eyebrow at Kaname's irritation.

"What?" Kaname demands.

"You know," says Yuuta, lightly, "you don't have to be so jealous half the time."

Kaname gives him a _look_, the one that speaks volumes about how completely off-kilter Yuuta is and how mortified he should feel right now if he had any shame _at all_, but Yuuta, as usual, has no shame whatsoever. "I'm not jealous of you sucking face with Shun after class hours."

Yuuta clucks his tongue at him. "For the pres, you're pretty stupid, huh?"

"I'm not stupid!" Kaname says. "And I'm still not jealous of you, _at all_." He huffs and opens his workbook, content to ignore Yuuta and his smarmy smirk for the rest of the break.

But the thing is, Kaname _may_possibly be a little jealous of how easy it is for Yuuta to be comfortable with speculations of his sexuality, and how no irritating girls bother him all the time. Mostly, Kaname feels the familiar heat of annoyance and dissatisfaction with himself.

When Yuuki was his classmate, he'd ignored him, then, too, after the usual diatribe of deceiving innocent school girls with his dumb looks and his effortless brilliance (only he'd taken care to put it in more colorful language), only Yuuki always - _always_- kicked at the soles of his shoes in his seat behind Kaname, staring and staring at Kaname's back with a rare fixation that made Kaname shiver. And Yuuki would take every excuse to touch Kaname's skin with feigned innocuousness, nails brushing against Kaname's knuckles, his elbow, the nape of his neck, promising nothing but distraction that soured and sweetened Kaname's mood, an uneasy flunctuation of his emotions threatening to overflow.

It felt like a secret, then; it still is, and it burns him.

After class, he heads to the student council room. He looks over his paperwork as his underclassmen gossip despite his pointed glares. The rest of the hour passes quickly, seconds sinking into each phrase that Kaname corrects and each paragraph that needs revision; it's only when the buzz of his companions' conversation lulls that he even registers the hurried whisper of his name.

"Uh," says Kaname, looking up and squinting. "Sorry, what was that?"

"Um," Minami, one of the sophomores, stammers, blushing to the roots of her hair, "Asaba-senpai's here to see you."

"Yo, pres," says Yuuki, leaning against the doorway lazily with a few of the more confident juniors gamely attempting to draw him in for a conversation. Kaname's fingers twitch with the urge to throw a pen at him in frustration. "Go home with me?"

Kaname's lips tighten into a thin line. He glances at the clock, and opens his mouth to launch into a tirade, only the looks from his underclassmen are unnerving enough to make him reconsider. "Five minutes," he grinds out, and begins to stuff his things into his bag.

He says his goodbyes at exactly four minutes later, and ignores Yuuki's look of apathy injected with not a little apathy. The entrance smells like a fruity concoction drenched with cider and served with marshmallows, and it seems to permeate the air even as he stalks past the school gates. Yuuki follows at a more sedate pace, looking not unlike a character from some absurdly cool shonen manga._Jeeze_, does this make him the frustrating love interest?

The thought makes him stew in his annoyance even longer.

At the intersection that separates the direction of their homes, Yuuki grabs Kaname's elbow with a force that belies the indolence of the line of his back, the relaxed set of his shoulders. Kaname ignores the familiar shot of want in his chest in favor of seething.

"Are your parents home?" Yuuki says.

Kaname narrows his eyes. "Yes," he lies. Yuuki rolls his eyes.

"It's barely six," says Yuuki. "Your mother's out with her sister."

"How did you even," Kaname stops, and takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Fine. You can come over." It figures his mother is putty in Yuuki's hands. One of these days, he'll bring this up over dinner and painstakingly outline the many meanings of family loyalty. For now, he blames Yuuki for looking so annoyingly good - his mother's a sucker for a pretty face, after all.

Yuuki holds his hand for the rest of the commute home, and Kaname almost forgets himself in the roughness of Yuuki's palm, the callouses of his fingers. The contact is enough to make his stomach flutter until he's not sure if he's filled with anything else but air and lightness. It's unbearable to separate as he fishes for his keys in his bag, when Yuuki is only a few centimeters away from him.

He shuts the door behind them and dumps his bag on the foyer. Yuuki follows him up to the second floor, still as nonchalant as ever, but the relative peace breaks when Kaname steps into his room and Yuuki pushes him on his bed, clambering over his lap and pressing their lips together in a bruising kiss.

When he looks at Yuuki, his body trembles. When he smells the perfume off of Yuuta's shirt, something inside him coils and tightens with malice. It sinks into his skin until it comes undone at his temper.

"Asshole," says Kaname, weakly, into his mouth.

"That's what you keep telling me," says Yuuki, before leaning closer to kiss him again, gently, this time.

Kaname makes a low, keening sound in his throat into the kiss, and Yuuki peppers his cheek, his jaw, the hollow of his throat, invariably pleased with himself. Kaname's still bitter and spiteful, _territorial_if he's being honest, and yet - and yet -

He curses the wonder that is Yuuki's mouth to hell and back.

Yuuki palms his crotch through the uncomfortable fabric of his pants, and Kaname's hips buck forward on instinct. His hands, too, profane, with each inquiring touch anything but meaningless. If Kaname had less resistance, he would be quicker to crumble. When Yuuki's head bends down to mouth against him, Kaname's mind goes blank.

"Yuuta tells me you've been working up a snit since lunch," says Yuuki, mildly, even as he works at Kaname's zipper with his teeth. Kaname would kick at him if his hands on his hips didn't press him deeper into the mattress and keep him in place.

"Your brother is a fucking liar," says Kaname, smartly, despite how stupid he feels exposed as Yuuki pulls down his pants and peels away his briefs. He shudders at the cool air and locks his knees around Yuuki's waist. "And you smell like a girl."

"At least some parts of you are honest," says Yuuki, sighing as he roots around under Kaname's pillow for a bottle of lotion pilfered from Kaname's own mother - the thought of it stopped horrifying them after the first two times. The lotion on Yuuki's palm drip onto the sheets as Kaname guides Yuuki's hand to his ass, biting his lip as Yuuki's fingers slide into him, knuckles brushing against his skin in a whisper of a caress.

Sometimes Kaname wonders if the only reassurance he'll ever get is physical, if the heat that pools in his belly is the same kind of arousal Yuuki feels as he looks at Kaname, flushed and breathless and wanting. When Yuuki's cock fills him, Kaname presses closer, mouthing fragmented imprecations against Yuuki's ear. "Want to-" He hears himself say, low and deep and terribly insensate, "-fucking kill the juniors, oh god, I'll kill you if you _don't stop moving_-" and Yuuki laughs even as he rocks into him. It's awkward and embarrassing but Yuuki's laughter makes the arousal sharper, makes his breaths come quick and stuttered.

"You," Kaname gasps, fingers grappling for purchase against the sheets. "_be quiet_."

Yuuki exhales into Kaname's neck as he comes, and pumps Kaname's cock with languor unlike his earlier desperation. Kaname groans as Yuuki's hips thrust shallowly into him even after Kaname shudders and comes into the palm of Yuuki's sweat-slicked hand. Even as Kaname grows soft, his eyes flicker with interest as he watches Yuuki bring his fingers to his lips, arrogant even in his own contentment.

Fucking bastard.

"You don't have to worry," says Yuuki, knocking at Kaname's temple none too gently, as if reading his thoughts. "You know I like you the most."

"Shut up!" He snarls, teeth bared. He flushes, his words without the familiar heat. His body is sated and his mind is a tangle of thoughts and yet Kaname can still remember the tightness in his throat, the empty pit of his stomach as he grips the collar of Yuuki's shirt and smells that _stupid perfume_.

Somehow, Kaname feels like he's still on the losing end even when he wins.


End file.
